


Common Ground

by ladyeternal



Category: Supernatural, White Collar
Genre: Boy Kissing, Crossover Pairings, Drabble, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyeternal/pseuds/ladyeternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even men who spend their lives telling lies can make a real connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: If I need to warn you about boy-luvins, you’re reading the wrong girl’s fics. Nothing else of note.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own little more than a tabby that gets destructive when he feels ignored and I’m only playing with other people’s characters for my own amusement and the free entertainment of others
> 
> Written for [**tiptoe39**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39)’s [String of Pearls commentfic meme.](http://tiptoe39.livejournal.com/1278495.html) Comments = love.

~ooooOOOoooo~

 

It’s a total fluke: both of them working the same job at the same time. Their reasons couldn’t be more dissimilar, but that doesn’t matter just now. What matters is that Blue Eyes got the piece just as Dean was getting into the room, and now it’s a chase.

They’re on foot, and it’s raining. Blue Eyes is in some kind of soft-soled shoes, his pack strapped across his back, the item secure. The thief is lithe and quick and cunning, just like Dean. And just like Dean, he’s determined to get away with the prize.

But Dean is more stubborn than Blue Eyes probably ever wanted to be. And the jewel-encrusted athame Blue Eyes has tucked away in that bag is going to get the thief killed if Dean doesn’t get it from him and into a curse-box.

In the end, those angels that are allegedly looking out for Dean must be looking out for Blue Eyes, too. Because Blue Eyes tries to lose Dean in an alley and he loses just a little momentum and then Dean’s on him, slamming the slender frame back into one of the brick walls. Blue Eyes loses his breath in a rush, and Dean’s victory smirk is almost vicious.

“You really don’t want to hang onto that thing,” Dean advises, giving a quick shake of his head to clear away the rivulets streaming down from his hair. “Everyone that’s ever owned it’s died within a month.”

Blue Eyes laughs a little, his coal-black hair plastered to his face. “You don’t really believe in curses,” he scoffs.

“And you really don’t want to push your luck.” The thief, Dean realizes, can’t be any older than him. A creature of whim and wind, like Dean himself, and beautiful, too. Tempting to all of the senses Dean has never let his father know he possesses.

“You’re serious.” Blue Eyes appears to study him, measuring him up. Dean gets the uncomfortable impression that Blue Eyes can see every fault line of his soul, could out-con him if given half a breath to try it. “You really think this thing has a curse on it.”

“Believe me or don’t,” Dean insists, voice low. “But you ain’t leavin’ this alley with it. Can’t let you.”

“Why do you care?” Blue Eyes asks suddenly. “You could just wait until it kills me and then take it, if you’re so sure that’s how this works.”

The question startles Dean a little. He’s not used to people questioning why he’d want to save them, only how he’s sure they need saved from something. “Saving people’s part of the family business,” he replies, his expression softening a little around the edges.

A beat, their eyes locked while Blue Eyes considers. And then those lips are on his, Blue Eyes’ gloved hands curling around Dean’s back, kneading into the sodden fabric of Dean’s shirt where it clings to his skin. Dean’s surprised, but he’s kissing Blue Eyes back, tempted to indulge what he’s never dared before.

For a long moment, it’s just two confidence men in the rain, hunter and hunted, rainwater dripping into the places where their mouths fuse and part and seal together again. The athame forgotten, breath caught between kisses even as it’s recovered from the chase, the heat of their bodies battling the chill in the air.

The kiss ends, and Blue Eyes’ blue eyes are dancing knowingly. “You’re good.”

“I have to be,” Dean replies.

A devastating, white-toothed smile, and Blue Eyes vanishes from Dean’s arms, up and over the wall at the back of the alley before Dean can say more.

At first, Dean doesn’t care. He’d slipped the athame from Blue Eyes’ pack during the kiss, after all. He’s gotten what he came for. He grabs a towel from the trunk before driving back to the motel, intending to grab drive-thru and beer on the way…

Until he realizes his wallet is missing.

In its place is a key card for a much nicer hotel. Much, much nicer.

“Sonofabitch,” Dean mutters, heading for the nearest gas station for directions. He’s got time to deal with the athame. He’s getting his wallet back first… and a night of creature comforts, too, as compensation for the little thief making Dean chase him down in the rain.

What Dean isn’t expecting is for Blue Eyes to be waiting outside the hotel when he arrives. “Took you longer than I thought,” he comments.

“Had to secure the piece someplace you won’t get at it,” Dean returns. “You got a name?”

“Probably as many as you do,” Blue Eyes replies. “But you can call me Neal. Neal Caffrey.”


End file.
